From Predator to Prey
by thathuman
Summary: "You're nothing to me," she spat, but her voice was weak with doubt. "That's not what you want, is it?" he calmly challenged. She tried to block out the mind-games, but the line between truth and lies had blurred and she found herself confused if the man softly cupping her cheek was her victim or her lover. AU
1. Exodus Part One

**Hello everyone! This story is not intended to have long chapters and will have a lot of character development in the beginning. I believe it's got a bit of every genre in it (with the exception of sci-fi/supernatural) so hopefully it appeals to all of you! I would love reviews! They make me happy.**

 **ALSO. SUPER IMPORTANT. This is a Happily Ever After story, so after you read these first two chapters don't feel like the end of the story has just been ruined.**

 **At the end of each chapter I will list a song (starting from chapter three). I _highly_ encourage you guys to listen to the songs. They go along with the chapter. **

**And finally...Enjoy! Hope you like it!**

First, she closed her eyes. She wished the last thing she'd ever see was something remotely important. She wished she didn't have to think about the last time she'd see anything in her sinful, destructive life. She was too young, too young, too young. She wished she had done more good in her mere 17 years of life. Of course when you're at the end of your line, you look back you see everything in horrifying clarity and Regret and Longing whisper in your dying thoughts. But alas, her life was too little, too short, too restricted to let her bloom and grow into the good that her heart unknowingly possessed.

Second, she stopped hearing. It was difficult anyway, over her shaky, laborious breaths and the tornado of empty and meaningless memories warning around her head. The small things that didn't matter, like her exceptional grade on her English assignment or what she just had for lunch and how much her necklace had cost. No, she wanted to hear her sister's giggles after she tickled her stomach, her mother's coos her after she'd stub her toe or bang her knee, and even her father's screaming, screaming, screaming. She wished she remembered the slamming of the front door as her father came home from work, or the sound of her sister's high heels _clip-clapping_ on the pristine tile, or the sweet hums her mother made up as she cleaned the kitchen. But right now, in these few important moments, she couldn't for the life of her conduct the proper symphonies.

Third, she lost feeling. The shock from the pain numbed her, and she was almost grateful because the awkward angle of her splayed limbs would probably be uncomfortable on the uneven rocks. But there was no contentedness from unfeeling. She craved more. Maybe is she had remembered the sweet burn when those strong hands massaged her shoulders, his warm and powerful arms engulfing her, his game of drawing letters, words, and shapes on her skin with the gentle brushes of his finger...maybe she would have had peace. Maybe the regret wouldn't gnaw on her heart like the guilty conscience she had learned and trained to ignore.

But it did.

Finally, she quit breathing. She felt her heart stutter and her chest squeeze, almost like the last hoorah of a car engine before it dies. How did she used to breathe? What did her lungs feel like after running down the street in her little Halloween costume? Or after exiting a free-fall amusement park ride? Or after the passionate kisses she had shared with that man? She wished she could _know,_ she wished she could just _remember._ These feelings were all she had left of her memories, her last anchor-

And she lost hold.

She let herself sink down down down the spiraling black void that had been beckoning and tempting her. Was there light? Up? Down? To her left? To the right? She couldn't see anything but the bright blue cloudless sky fading quickly into darkness. And just as the emotions no longer gripped her, let go and vanished into the nothingness, she heard the horrified screams, felt the desperation as hands cupped her face, so soft and familiar. The spark of heat electrifying her skin where anything touched her body; the hands, the ground, her own messy hair as the wind rustled it slightly against her neck.

And for a brief moment, she saw.


	2. Exodus Part Two

**Hello! I realized I didn't put an AN at the last chapter XD whoops! AN down below!**

 **Enjoy!**

She saw. She heard. She felt. She remembered. It was as if her line of thread of Life that had been cut so quickly was sewn hastily back together, but only temporarily. She knew it would snap again soon. She knew Death had one foot in the door still and was inching his way inside. But for these dreamy and surreal last moments of life, she reveled to the light of the noonday sun glaring and warming her cold skin, and she clutched to the sound of the rapids just feet away roaring and yowling at her to _"Die!" "Leave!" "Go! Go! Go!"_ And she remembered to store memory of this shrimp of a moment into her subconscious. To grip to the flashes and keep them in her tiny locket of memories she faithfully wore behind her closed eyes.

And then they were no longer closed.

Her eyes snapped open, wide and big and terrified pupils overtaking the milky brown of her irises. For one slow moment, she could see, look, stare. It was maybe a second, but she would never, _could_ never, forget the scrunched eyes and that beautifully ugly face made as it's twisted in pain just inches above hers. She observed the thick tears clumping his long eyelashes and his eyebrows furrow in desperation, grief, horror.

She wanted to say something, say a goodbye or a curse or maybe say nothing at all and relish his pain or kiss him.

She was very undecided about how she should have left him. But in the end, she didn't have to choose; Death chose for her.

A silent scream was released to only the ears of the dead as Death took her back into his coffin of black eternity. She screamed and screamed but no response was returned and she had the crazy nerve to feel insulted that this was how her forever would be spent. She had never thought about it much, but had always expected palm trees and calming waves tickling her toes under the soft give of golden sand. But this? She felt like she deserved more from Death. She had given him plenty of lives, but now he dragged hers to him as if unappreciative of her work. She had gifted Death and he had, in turn, brushed off her past as if it didn't matter. And this is exactly what she would have wanted one day, truly. She would have gotten out of the risky business soon enough and then scrapped her identity and started over. New life, no more work. But she found it terribly ironic that Death would be the first to disregard her acts.

He had accepted her work until she became the work.

And that face that she had glimpsed for one last time, hovering above hers with tears staining his smooth cheeks and cleaning his stubbled jaw, the face she had known in so many complicated ways, of love, of hate, of darkness, of light, the face that she had called heaven and hell, the face that once didn't stir a burn inside; she broke him. She destroyed any internal strength he had of remaining the great and amazing top-dog he had been. He had it all.

Until he had _her._

In the end, they had destroyed each other, once feasting on each other's down falls but now leaving the food untouched.

And while she is dead, he is too, deep inside his hard heart she should have struck with a dagger. He is weak, his ragged gasps of horror and grief bubbling out of those lips she had kissed not too long ago.

And then he was gone.

She had failed her most important task:

She didn't kill him.

 **Okay, I know this is so bizarre and you guys are probably like "What they heck is going on?" So the first chapter and this chapter are part of the end, but I promise there is a HEA (happily ever after) so don't worry!**

 **The chapters aren't super long on purpose. I've been told my writing gets too detailed and too drawn out, so I'm challenging myself to the complete opposite: write as short of chapters as possible.**

 **Song of Chapter One: Kiss it Better by He is We**

 **Song of Chapter Two (this one): Tragedy by Christina Perri**

 **Thank you! Please review! Feedback (good and bad) is awesome.**

 **~Hunter**


	3. Genesis

**Hello hello! This is the beginning! Hope you enjoy!**

 **PLEASE REVIEW. Tell me anything. "Hate it" "Love it" "Bleh" "3" Honestly anything would be great.**

A chill went up her calves as she hugged her oversized fur coat closer to her. She had landed in London no more than three hours ago and felt absolutely ridiculous standing in the expensive get-up in front of a crappy motel. She shifted her numb feet as the snow slowly began to rise and cover them and watch her breath billow gold under the dim lamppost.

 _Where was he?_ She wondered impatiently, glancing from side to side to make sure nobody was watching her suspiciously. She was a pretty girl in overpriced clothing standing alone...who knew what kind of creeps were in the outskirts of London? She was relieved to see the street wasn't too busy, occupied mostly by just a few couples strolling together lovingly with their hand held. She sighed and looked away as a girl leaned up to kiss her boyfriend, smiling shyly up at him. It wasn't that she wanted love or a boyfriend-she was too busy for a serious relationship-but she imagined it would be nice to have someone sincerely there for her as her best friend. Maybe that's all she wanted: a friend.

But you know the saying: We all want what we can't have.

She couldn't have people close to her because of the complications and she was always the girl who liked things straight and simple. It also didn't help that the ones she usually became "friends" with were the ones who she killed.

An old black car zoomed past her, spitting more snow on her coat and blue dress, snapping her out of her thoughts. Irritated, she brushed off the wet white pebbles with gloved hands. She was seriously considering going inside the motel soon if the damn jerk didn't show up soon.

And after what seemed like five minutes, she turned away from the street to do just that. As she shuffled numbly to the rust-ridden iron gate, she heard the purr of some type of luxury car. She stopped, praying to some divine essence that it was him. She heard the car door open, and then the rough and old voice of the man she had been studying for months.

"Maximum," he called, and she mischievously smirked before turning to face him with a dazzling million dollar smile.

"Mr. Chu," she regarded the asian man with a nod of respect.

"Come, Ms. Ride, we have much to discuss." He motioned for her to come to the car and she sauntered towards him, feeling the gun that was tucked safely into the thigh holster rub against the silk of her dress.

"Indeed we do," she replied vaguely before ducking into the car. Her eyes glinted dangerously in the dim light of the lamppost and she smiled again, this time a smaller one, as if hiding a secret.

Time to have fun.

 **Alright. Yup. Review! Working on the next chapter now! The more reviews the more encouraged I get so please review! Tell me anything. :D**

 **Song of the chapter: Close by Nick Jonas**


	4. Sushi and Suspicion

**Yay! Another chapter! Cuz I'm alone and in a good writing mood! Yay!**

 **Please review!**

 **Enjoy!**

They drove to the Atelier Robuchon, some fancy Japanese restaurant with a bill fatter than Mr. Chu, who had not-so-discreetly loosened the belt hanging on his poorly fitted suit pants halfway through the dinner.

The car ride had been uneventful, with conversation of just small talk and simple matters. He had introduced his large and muscular bodyguard, named Jim, and told her stories of his impressive fighting career and undercover operations for the Nigerian army.

It was a subtle warning for her not to pull any stupid crap.

The 6'8 bodyguard was sitting to the right of Maximum during the dinner, feasting on his gourmet sushi messily. Max herself picked at her own meal, more interested in observing the balding man sitting on her left. He was much more relaxed than she had anticipated, slurping and belching as if he wasn't in a five-star restaurant with a prospective "client." He hadn't even broached the subject yet, and Max stayed quiet. He could take his time. She had plenty of time to fool around for a while.

"Ms. Ride, do you know who you remind me of?" Mr. Chu asked suddenly, wiping his mouth with a white napkin before chuckling and downing another glass of champagne. She briefly wondered if he was a heavyweight or a lightweight before answering with a polite smile.

"I have no idea," she said lightly, shaking her head as she gave the man all her attention.

"You remind me of my ex-wife," he said gleefully before laughing as if he had told a joke. Jim even darkly laughed next to her, a deep, Darth Vader sound. It would have scared most girls, but Max resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she forced her smile to stay bright as she asked him how.

"She was always thinking and plotting and watching and waiting. Much smarter than she appeared to be." He smiled at her and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully before returning to shovel his food.

"I'll take that as a compliment then," she replied.

"Oh no, I wouldn't do that, Ms. Ride," he quickly corrected, shaking his head and thus making his fat cheeks jiggle.

"Why not?"

"All her plots and thoughts...she tried to kill me." He dropped his fork, letting it clink and clatter on the porcelain and trained his eyes on her. _He knew,_ she thought, _He knows._ The once jolly eyes became serious as he inspected her with knowledge and suspicion clear in the wrinkles of his face. He suddenly seemed like the evil dictator-like man she had prepared for herself to meet, and she kept steady eye-contact with him as he called for the bill to be brought.

She felt the gun burning and had the intense itch to make the move and just kill him and Dumbo Jim but restrained. _Not yet_ , she told herself, remembering what the mission was for.

But then he leaned in close, his salty breath brushing her hair and tickling her ear. Her heart stuttered in her chest with a small jolt of fear as he whispered,

"I would like you to give your gun to Jim, Maximum. I think he might really enjoy using it tonight."

 **The more I write, the more excited I get XD**

 **Review what you think! Thank you!**

 **Song of the chapter: Control by Halsey**


	5. Money and Murder

**Eek! This chapter gets a little crazy!**

 **Enjoy!**

Max could've played dumb, could've acted shocked that he would even suggest such an absurd thought that she would have a weapon on her. But she knew all the acting in the world wouldn't have mattered. Jim would've patted her down, and Max _really_ didn't want his huge (and probably unclean) hands searching through her dress.

So she stood and trailed her hand up the slit in her dress and scrunched the material up until she slipped the gun out of the pocket it had been waiting in comfortably. Chu grabbed the gun as soon as it was in sight and fingered it for a few seconds before handing it to his bodyguard, who graciously took his new toy with a sick smile of delight.

"Careful, boy, it's loaded," she mocked. The big man flared his nostrils angrily while tucking the gun into the waistband of his slacks before clutching Max's shoulders with considerable force. She didn't even blink as her body jostled from the sudden force of impact.

"Now, let's take a drive," Chu said cheerily, leading the way out. Jim pushed her forward and Max shrugged away from him.

"I know how to walk, dimwit," she spat at him. He opened his mouth to respond but Chu cut him off.

"Let it go, Jim. It won't matter in the end."

As they left the restaurant, Max glanced up to the security camera glaring down at them from above the double doors. She wiggled her eyebrows once, twice, three times. The signal.

The car was already waiting for them out front, humming quietly as snow continued to fall. Chu opened the door for her and she slunk in, setting herself in the middle seat as Chu sat down on her right and Jim on her left.

"You never did seem like the type of girl to get involved in this sort of business," Chu started conversationally, almost as if the matter was a casual affair. Max tried not to scoff at his remark and covered it with a strangled cough. He didn't know the half of it. He continued: "Too reckless, too obvious. My other clients are far more reliable, wouldn't you agree, Jim?" Jim nodded roughly and Chu went on; "I bet you don't even have a single ounce on you, don't you?"

Max glared, unresponsive. He smiled and shook his head. "What a silly, silly girl. For how smart you are-" he poked her head with an index finger- "you sure are very stupid."

She drew her eyes away from him to look out the window, barely containing her anger. Noting the street name the car passed, she was reminded she needed to get into action, and soon.

Max looked back at Mr. Chu. "I bet you don't even have the money," she challenged, cocking an eyebrow at him.

He smirked back at her, as if they were playing a game and he was about to call checkmate. "Ahh, Ms. Ride, that is where you are wrong. Jim, show her the case." The big man sitting next to her reached underneath his seat and pulled out a dingy, banged up briefcase and opened it with a simple click. Max almost laughed. She had been expecting some sort of high-tech, bomb proof case with a three digit code. _This is too easy,_ she thought.

Inside the case were neat stacks of American one-hundred dollar bills, pristine and wonderfully stacked. Jim closed the case and stuffed it back under the seat.

"Now that you've seen that I do hold up my part of the bargain, let's make another deal, Ms. Ride. Hopefully, for your sake, it is one you oblige to honestly." He gave her a pointed look before going on. "Tell me who your employer is and I'll let you go alive." They passed another street and Max began to feel pressed for time. "Huh, Maximum? Wouldn't you like to go home?"

Max smiled and openly said, "Yes, Mr. Chu, I would really like to go home." She clicked her (ironically) ruby red heels together three times, wistfully chanting "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home..." She felt the two blades slide out of the soles of her stilettos, a good three inches of razor-sharp metal pointing threateningly towards the trunk of the car.

"Indeed, Ms. Ride, there's no place like-" He cut himself off with an ear-splitting screech as she kicked her heel sideways into his calf muscle. She felt the blade go all three inches into the flesh and dragged her shoe down to his ankle before slowly drawing her mini sword out of his body. Then, moving with trained elegance and speed, she turned so that her back was supported by the console in the front of the car and she was facing the stunned faces of Jim and Chu. She slipped out the dagger that had been both hiding in her hair and also helping to hold to updo in place. Lunging forward with incredible agility, she slashed down on one of Mr. Chu's cheeks. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jim fumble with Max's gun before switching off the safety and pointing it menacingly at Max. She remained still as he pulled the trigger, and the three waited in a few moments of silence, waiting for a red flower to spontaneously bloom somewhere on the girl.

After seeing nothing, Jim pulled the trigger again, and again, and again, with wide eyes. Max giggled. "You didn't _really_ think I'd hand over a loaded gun, did you?" At the mortified looks on the two men's faces, she flashed her pearly whites in true evil. "Silly, silly, boys. I'm not _that_ stupid, Mr. Chu."

Jim tried to sneak his hand to the holster where his own gun was but didn't get far as Max threw her dagger with superior accuracy. It struck his left chest, digging in deep to where his heart was beating and pumping. It was most certainly impaled and would be coughing its last pulses for no more than five minutes before Jim would be dead. The bodyguard dropped is hands from where they had been at his side and was now clutching the dagger, gaping helplessly like a fish out of water. His lungs had stopped functioning and he was trying, to no avail, to bring in oxygen.

His gun fell from his lap and dropped to the floor. In a flash, Mr. Chu made a weak attempt to reach down and grab it, but his stomach protruded too far out for him to reach the weapon. Haughtily, Max swiftly snatched the gun and turned off the safety, pointing it at Chu. "My employer wants you dead," she deadpanned.

"No kidding," Chu responded bluntly, hands held up in an "I surrender" signal. "Ms. Ride, I beg you to spare me. I'm sure I can make it up to you somehow."

"Sorry, Chu, I don't believe in mercy."

She pulled the trigger twice.

 **Finally, some action!**

 **Please oh please review. It would honestly make my day.**

 **Song of the chapter: Mad Hatter by Melanie Martinez**


	6. The Getaway

**Okie! Next chapter!**

The first bullet was aimed at Chu's wrinkled forehead. The result was extremely messy, but it was an instant kill, and Max couldn't leave any loose ends.

The second one was at Jim, who had ceased his useless wheezing and was frozen, only moving his eyes to glance between the assassin and his dead boss. Before shooting him, she reached forward and pulled her dagger out of his chest, cleaning the blood off on his gray slacks. She noticed a tear drop out of one of his eyes but couldn't feel any remorse as she slid the knife inside her long glove before holding up her gun and firing the second shot. The bullet plunged through the bloody stab wound, also killing him instantly.

After checking both men for nonexistent pulses, she reached under Jim's limp legs to greedily claim her prize. The thief let a surge of pride rush through her as she felt the end of her successful mission quickly approaching, and a truly happy smile lit up her youthful features.

Then she returned to work.

The driver continued to drive as if two of his passengers weren't just brutally murdered and Max turned to the front of the car to regard him. He wore nice silk gloves (as he always did) and a suit, with a black fedora shading his eyes and hair from street cameras and witnesses. The man didn't even glance at the killer riding with him as she shifted into the front passenger seat, hugging the case to her chest like it was her child.

"One more street," she told him, watching the road. It wasn't an instruction but rather a reminder, and she wasn't surprised when he answered, "I know."

At the first sight of the intersection, she popped the lock on her door. She opened the glove box and took out two identical circular objects, silently examining them in the colored glow of the passing street lights.

AS the black car sped towards the intersection, picking up speed, Max pulled the pins out of the devices and accurately tossed them onto the laps of Chu and Jim. The driver kept pushing down on the gas pedal, accelerating the car through the red light sixty miles above the speed limit. Max quickly sent a silent thanks to Headquarters for keeping the street empty; she didn't like causing too much disorder. Extra people were extra responsibilities and she didn't like the thought of a massacre of innocent citizens.

They zoomed through the intersection and the driver pulled the wheel slightly to the right, wheels aimed in the direction of a sturdy lamppost.

"Now!" He yelled, pushing his door open and flying out at the same time as Max. Their synchronized escape couldn't have been executed a second later. The rolled out, Max grunting as her dress ripped and her arms scraped against the asphalt. But she continued to hold the briefcase tight while the driver swiftly somersaulted into a sitting position. They observed the car crash into lamppost and flip as it exploded into flames after a moment.

Panting, Max looked over to the agent. "You put acid in them?" she checked.

He nodded at her. "There won't be any traces left."

"Good." They made eye-contact for a split second before nodding at each other and bolting away from the chaotic scene. She went left and he went right, just like they had been told to. She didn't even look back as she disappeared in the alleyways of the city like the snow falling softly into the flames engulfing the car.

She passed men and women and children as people flocked to the burning car. She knew they would find no bodies; the acid would have already ate them. They would only find metal and smoke, no traces left behind.

She heard the sirens and saw the lights flash by her, ignoring her as if she were just an innocent girl walking down the street.

Sometimes she wished she was.

 **Alrighty, so these last few chapters and a few more are basically just introductions. Hang in tight though, more action, some humor, and plot twists are coming. Mwahahaha...**

 **Please review! Anything is encouragement, even if it's a "this sucks" sort of review.**

 **Be honest. Be brave. Review.**

 **Song of the chapter: Just Like Fire by Pink (I don't know how to do the upside down exclamation point)**


	7. Home

**And another chapter! Thank you so much to mini1410 for reviewing! I feel like I've read part of that story...it sounds familiar! But I'll definitely look into it! Thanks.**

 **Enjoy!**

She had cut through backstreets and the darker parts of London where fewer tourists ventured. She had slipped into the little cafe that hid from the light and commotion of the city and headed straight into the bathroom, into the second stall, and changed into the plain sweater and jeans and sneakers that had been waiting in a plastic bag in the small compartment where used feminine products were put.

There was also her watch, all rusted and ugly and scratched, but it was hers.She had had it since she was just a small child and had worn it even though it was a hunk of metal that weighed down her tiny arm. She had faithfully worn it since it had been given to her, and it held so many memories in its scars.

It was home.

She threw the fur coat and dress in the trash after remembering to take out her passport and money to put in the briefcase. She attempted to tame her knotted dirty blonde hair with a messy ponytail before stuffing her blood-stained gloves and ruby red heels into the plastic bag. She slid the dagger into the band of her too-tight bra in the back and scrubbed the makeup off her face.

Then she left.

She found a small convenience store, purchased a box of matches and returned back into the December cold. It was still snowing, but it was light and felt more like rain as it melted on Max's heated skin. She had started a small bonfire in a metal trashcan, tossing in the plastic bag and watching it burn with the incriminating evidence. She didn't feel like she was losing anything important; there would be another pair of heels and gloves identical to the ones she had just incinerated at home.

"Home is where the heart is," they say, but Max can't help but think they don't have a clue about what a home should be like. Home shouldn't be in hiding, where murders are plotted and the air is tense and work is all that is done. And yet that is where her heart is bound, both figuratively and literally.

And her watch illustrated "home" perfectly: a dysfunctional piece of crap that has no emotion but is always working, working, working; it never stops, never breaks.

And as Max left the fire and headed to the airport, she felt the cold seep into her bones and was taken aback as she realized her home and her watch, described as one and the same, also described her.

 **A little bit into Max's mind. Working on next chapter now!**

 **Song of the chapter: Unsteady by X Ambassadors**

 **Thanks!**


	8. Berlin

**Annnnnd...next chapter.**

 **Enjoy!**

She didn't go home from London.

She wasn't stupid, and she knew it would look awfully suspicious to stay in London for less than ten hours and then flying right back home again.

So she stayed in Germany for seven days. It was where her next mission would take place and she was to inspect and take note of two cities: Brussels and Berlin. She was told the meeting point hadn't been pinned down yet, and to examine everything; what time of day are the streets busiest? Where was the most popular restaurant? How complicated are the roads? Where are the security cameras?

She was to map the cities in her head.

So she studied it all, from the way the height of the buildings staggered to the think cracks in the asphalt. She didn't waste time on enjoying the foreign country, not like the couple from Australia (who were horribly underdressed for the rainy weather), taking in the beauty with gasps of awe and wide eyes that captured their surroundings with innocent intentions.

For her, nothing had an innocent intention.

For her, she was wandering around Berlin not as a tourist but as a businesswoman. This was not a vacation-she didn't even believe in those anymore-but rather a job. She let her eyes scan the architecture in the crowded town square. It was the busiest place she could find, and it was teeming with people going in every different direction.

 _Perfect,_ she had thought. It would be used as an excellent diversion; people weren't too good at finding her. They never had been; even at six years old, playing hide and go seek, her playmates always gave up after countless minutes searching for her in every nook and cranny.

She grabbed a coffee-"black" she had told the barista-and sat alone under an awning, people watching, checking her surroundings. She scouted out escape positions through roads, buildings, shops, and crowds.

This place meant nothing more than an observational experiment.

That's all what the exotic destinations meant for her now: strategic locations for future tasks. She didn't see the ledges in the antique building to her left as a work of art but rather like a railing in a stairwell. She'd use them to climb up to the roof and hop to the next building, whose roof was about twenty feet down and connected to its neighbors. And those awning to her right, she could definitely use those if she needed to jump down to the street. Oh, and how could she have almost forgotten the crumbling brick across the road? Perfect as a hands-on weapon, as a back-up if her dagger and gun were to be taken from her...

Berlin was an easy maze to Max, filled to the brim with countless getaways and tools.

But Berlin wasn't art, like the old man sitting in the table behind her had said to his wife.

She didn't see art in anything anymore- that's not how her brain was trained.

She was forced to see everything in a practical and survival perspective. She was forced to see crowds as somewhere to evade followers. She was forced to see trashcans, rocks, _bricks,_ as murder weapons. She was forced to label a person as an obstacle, target, or ally.

And she had done just that to the bellhop when he had asked her out to dinner. He was given the title of an obstacle and was promptly turned down with a reasonable excuse: she had a boyfriend. But she checked out early that night, spending her last hours at a bed and breakfast, where an acceptable tip was left for the older woman scrambling to keep her business afloat.

As she made her way to the airport with just her briefcase, she let herself try to imagine Berlin as anything other than work.

Maybe beautiful, exciting, historic...

Maybe fun, she had thought, before strictly reminding herself

Everything in this world was useless to her unless it was for work.

 **So a little bit more into the mind of Max XD**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

 **Song of the chapter: What It's Like by Everlast**


	9. The Devil Lives Under a Rock

**So I'm a little ticked off. For some unbeknownst reason, I typed this chapter all up and it doesn't save. The cherry on top? The document I had of the chapter erased too. Had to start from scratch again for this one. Frustrated beyond belief. So sorry.**

 **Ugh.**

 **~Hunter**

 **Enjoy.**

The flight home was long and uneventful, and Max slept for half of it. She even missed the complementary breakfast, and could do nothing to hush her yowling stomach for the next eight hours in the air. The young woman next to her snuck sidelong glances as loud growls echoed from her abdomen, but she quickly turned her pudgy face back into the book she had been reading. Max had soon done the same for the ninety-nine cheap cliche romance novel she had bought in one of the gift shops while waiting for the plane. It was written completely in German, one of the many languages she was fluent in.

16 to be exact.

Seventeen years of solitude and a horrible case of boredom was what Max liked to blame her intelligence on, but she knew the truth. All the little games that were played, every book she read, the places she had been taken as a child, they were all part of training. She was born to train, raised in training, and sent to kill. It had been her whole life, whether she liked it or not.

She didn't quite know if she did like it or not. She hadn't known any different.

And maybe that was the root of her internal battle. Perhaps she wasn't sure if she was happy being an assassin or trapped into killing. She was able to draw the line of how she felt towards people; she would never let anyone in because people were just as unpredictable with feelings as she was with murder. Maybe a screw came loose in her head, which was the only explanation she could comprise for why she had no sense of humanity left in her stone heart. She was a robot trapped in a human body and she knew it.

She just didn't know how to change, _if_ she wanted to change.

But looking around the cabin full of diverse people, idly playing on phones or reading or sleeping, she decided she was not like everyone else. She never was and never would be.

She wasn't _supposed_ to be. She wasn't _supposed_ to feel. It wasn't allowed in her line of work.

So when she exited the airport with just the briefcase in hand (after flushing the horribly boring German book down a toilet) she didn't feel joy when she spotted the old and dented 1999 Camry, didn't feel warmth in the arms that engulfed her and welcomed her home with a plastic smile, and didn't feel safe as she buckled her seatbelt in place.

And that's just how it was.

They didn't talk in the car, didn't even glance at each other, but listened to the audio book that had been playing- _The Shining_ by Stephen King-at a particularly horrific chapter. Max let her mind zone out but kept her eyes open.

The car ride home was much longer than it needed to be since the paranoid-ridden man was always convinced someone was watching him; they took backroads down one way with headlights turned off before u-turning and heading back the same way. The process repeated down several turns and unknown highways. He made his own maze in his head that only he could solve.

It was most likely the only thing Max had inherited from him.

Max was jolted back to reality when the car suddenly screeched to a halt just inches in front of a worn down, wooden two-story house. The building looked like it would collapse soon, and Max assumed this was why nobody lived inside it. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she bent down to grab the busted briefcase and handed it to the outstretched hand waiting to receive the gift. After handing it over, he unlocked the car doors, letting her get out. He stayed in his seat to marvel at the green paper inside.

Stretching with her hands over her head, Max let out a yawn before checking her surroundings. It was night, and completely dark besides the moon and stars since they weren't allowed to have any light. The only sound that could be heard were the toads and crickets harmonizing, as well as the tall dead grass rustling in the harsh wind of winter.

Then she spotted the boulder.

A completely obvious, almost hilariously huge gray hunk sitting out of place among the cleared area. Rolling her eyes, she still thought they should have put a tree. Putting both hands on the rock, she shoved the heavy thing into the barbed wire fence, revealing a set of metal doors that had been hiding under.

Home.

She tapped the doors in the beating rhythm that had been the code for as long as she could remember, and they opened up like an invitation to a black hole. Max clambered in, letting the skinny dark arm assist her down the steep ladder. Her father followed her, locking the doors back together with a chain and engulfing them in complete silence and darkness yet again.

And that's where they lived. In the quiet black bunker of hell that hid under a boulder.

Because the devil lives under a rock.

 **SOOO much longer than it was supposed to be and I liked the other version better, but what can you do, you know? Ugh. So sorry. Please review. It'd make my day.**

 **Thanks.**

 **Song of the chapter: Internal Dialogue by Maria Mena (she's seriously awesome)**


	10. Mo

**Heyyyy! Shout out to Hello it's me for the review! Thanks!**

 **Also, I have a question so if anybody can answer it please tell me! How can I go back and edit previous chapters? There's a few grammatical mistakes I want to change but I don't know how to do that. Thanks!**

 **~Hunter**

 **Enjoy!**

Max stood still at the base of the steel ladder as she waited for the lights to flip on. After some shuffling in the dark, the LED lights that hung crookedly overhead flickered to life. Max had to blink a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness and Max could tell her father did too as he brought a hand up to cover his eyes for a few moments, his lips frowned in a grimace.

When the two of them had been able to open their eyes without tearing up, they spotted Mo still hovering by the switch on the far side of the room. The area was big enough, renovated to be bigger than it originally was (it was now approximately 65 feet long and 20 feet wide instead of 30 by 15). There were boxes and boxes of files towered along three sides of the room. The last wall consisted of wooden tables pushed together against the wall with a line of computers and wires mangled in heaps with keyboards somehow part of the mess.

In front of the array of technology stood Mo, long fingers still lightly brushing the lever and watching them with wide eyes. Max hadn't seen her in almost two weeks and Mo had always been a thin girl, but now she was disgustingly malnourished and unclean and looked as if she hadn't changed her clothes in a week.

Max knew it wasn't the girl's fault.

But though she sympathized for her co-worker's poor condition, she kept her voice even and devoid of emotion. "You hacked into the restaurant's security cameras as well as the streets' traffic cameras and erased the crucial footage, yes?" There wasn't a "hello" or "welcome home," it was work and it was a no-feeling zone...

As long as her father was there.

"Yes," Mo murmured, and Max had to strain to hear her from across the room. The skinny kid looked down to her feet shyly, letting her mass of unruly hair shower around her sunken cheeks and bony jaw.

Max examined her further; her knees were like door knobs against flat boards of wood and her gray tank top hung loosely around her nonexistent stomach while the spaghetti straps slipped off her slender shoulders.

She was starving.

Turning to face her father, Max muttered under her breath, "She won't be of much use to you if you starve her to death, you know."

"She'll be fine," was the dismissive reply. The blonde rolled her eyes as he raised his voice and coldly told Mo to get back to work. She slunk into her broken swivel chair quietly and started typing furiously on one keyboard.

"When does Ig get back?" Ig, the only other co-worker in their business and they're designated pyromaniac, had been the driver back in London. He had gone to a separate country, but of course Max was not told of his location for security reasons. They would not hear of each other or see the other until they were both home, and it was obvious Ig hadn't made it to the bunker yet.

"Three more days. He's been in Ireland on an individual task. Monique has been screening for him."

And that was Mo's contribution to the team. She was a tech wiz and computer prodigy, and even Max (who knew hardly anything about the computer gadgets and what-nots) could tell she was insanely talented. She could hack into any security system, video network, encrypted website; basically _anything_ that was stored in a chip or computer or database. She'd broken down firewalls to classified information in multiple countries without them knowing. She called it her "invisibility cloak." Once on the inside of these databases, she could monitor everything that was stored after she cracked the encryption it was shielded by. Decrypting codes had never been hard for Mo; it was as if she spoke the garbled language as her native tongue.

And maybe this was true as she didn't speak English nearly as much.

Max watched as Mo snuck into security cameras videoing some pawn shop and slid an empty frame of the same picture over the video as Ig stalked in, glancing up at the security camera and wiggling his eyebrows three times. The hacker slid the video of Ig to the right and onto another computer screen as she had the other video loop.

She was making Ig virtually disappear.

Not caring to watch any longer, Max made her way to the beaten yellow sofa sitting practically in the middle of the room. She was tired and felt selfish as she laid down, glancing back at Mo who sat hunched with her face inches from one of the blindingly bright computer screens, probably witnessing Ig make a kill or a bribe or a steal or some form of crime. Max could just imagine how puffy and lifeless her chocolate eyes were. The poor thirteen year old needed sun, sugar, and fun.

And sleep. Like Max was going to be getting.

Max felt her stomach clench as she thought about how much more Mo deserved sleep than she did.

 **New character! Yay! Sort of a filler but it's got some character development...**

 **Review! Let me know what I can work on! Thanks!**

 **Song of the chapter: Sleep Like a Baby Tonight by U2**


	11. Vimm and Father

**Hello hello! Hope everyone's doing good!**

 **So last chapter we met Mo...I hope you guys guessed who that character was XD**

 **Soon we'll get to Ig.**

 **But not this chapter. ;D**

 **Enjoy!**

When she woke up from her dreamless slumber, Max wasn't surprised that her father was gone. He was always up before dawn and back after dark; most of the time she knew his purpose for going out. _Like today_ , she noted. His trench coat, scarf, and classic briefcase was missing and it was a good indication he was undercover. He didn't have a job besides the one he ran in the dank bunker.

Sometimes he had different matters of...business.

She could smell it on him.

He would stagger down the ladder carelessly and pathetically trip over boxes while mumbling incoherently, whiskey puffs engulfing her sense of smell.

Other times he'd come home quiet and solemn, a pained expression donning his face. He would walk past her and Max would inhale the sharp scent of cheap perfume that was stained on his clothes.

And the rest of the time? Max couldn't even begin to guess. Her father was a strange man, unpredictable and changeable, with a million motives for a single act. He was an intelligent man both academically and tactfully.

For a while he had been drowning in his chaotic mind and had let his body react to his feelings.

There was a time when he was weak with the emotions he had taught Max to destroy. There were moments when he would cry and beg against a wall. Other times he would stare at Max in disgust and hatred. Sometimes he would scream.

Sometimes he screamed, cried, and stared all at the same time.

And then he would beat.

He'd throw boxes full of papers and the knives she was training with and empty beer bottles, aiming for her malnourished little body. He'd yell angry obscenities and curses and shake uncontrollably. Poor Ig didn't what to do, how to help, what to say. He'd grab Mo and curl in a corner and watch his sister run around the bunker, trying to escape her father but to no avail. He'd catch her every time.

Soon she'd stopped running.

Tiny baby Mo would wail, upset at the loud noises disturbing her fragile eardrums. Her father would yell at her to shut up, but she hadn't even begun to speak yet and cried louder.

But he never hit them.

Max, to this day, never knew why it was her. Maybe it was because Max was oldest. Maybe it was because Max was strongest. Maybe it was because Max was convenient. Maybe maybe maybe...

Maybe it was because Max was his own child.

Max was startled back into the present with the noisy sound of Mo starting her work, fingers blazing across keyboards while her curly hair bounced side to side as she glanced at the different screens.

Max wondered if Mo ever had a day of rest, or her father for that matter.

He was probably scouring the streets of the nearest city, looking for a thrill or a mystery or business or just a decent enough bar with a TV that showed the football game.

But no matter what he was doing, no matter who he was with, no matter where he was, he would stay unknown. Max knew that for a fact. He was the guy that was memorable yet easily forgotten. The nobody everybody knew.

And that was who he was.

He went by the name Vimm. No surname, no explanation. He didn't even tell Max what it meant. It didn't matter anyways because she didn't call him by that pseudonym. She wasn't allowed to.

He was Father to her.

Her father and Vimm were two different people, and Max often wondered if the man had a personality disorder.

Vimm never spoke of Father and Father never spoke of Vimm, no matter how drunk or tired or loose-lipped either of them were.

He was very careful about keeping his identity a secret.

He was two geniuses in one body, a paradox Max couldn't make sense of. And that was okay; her role wasn't to understand her father.

It was to obey. And obey she did.

Max was just the brawn to his brains.

But not for long.

 **OOOOOO what could that mean? XD**

 **Review review let me know how I'm doing. What I should change, add, etc.**

 **I'd love it. Thanks.**

 **Song of the chapter: Backwards by Christina Perri**


	12. Ig

**Hi! Sorry for the wait! Been a little crazy these past few days but I'm still alive!**

 **Enjoy! Thank you to those of you who reviewed! You made me smile :D**

Ig stumbled down the ladder two days later, and Max could tell he was both mentally and physically fatigued. His incredible blue eyes seemed dimmed and his whole body was lethargic with exhaustion.

Was it from jet-lag and the mission, or the constant strain on his conscience?

Probably the former.

Ig wasn't like Max, who felt torn between what was wrong or what was right. Ig was a blind machine, operating fully on trust and fear from her father. Max wasn't even sure Ig really _felt_ much emotion at all. He liked to keep to himself and build enough bombs to blow up Rhode Island.

They never went unused.

In Max's opinion, a bomb was just as good as a gun and were especially good for covering up tracks. Guns were traceable. Bombs? Not so much.

So Ig built bombs in quiet, never wanting to talk to Mo or Max unless it was about a mission. He was stoic, too; as he talked, his face stayed blank as only his mouth moved.

But as much as Ig stayed as lively as a rock, Max knew one thing for sure:

Ig didn't like Max.

Max wasn't his biological sister, and though the hierarchy of her dysfunctional family was Father and then the rest of them, Max had been pushed harder, given harder tasks, held to a higher standard. Max always made the more important kills, the ones worth more to her father, while Ig got second-string.

She could tell Ig wanted more.

She saw it again as she was assigned to another mission- not in Germany, but in California, USA. The quick blink of disappointment, the twitch of fingers in frustration, and the licking of the lips as he heard.

He tried not to react, but of course Max would be able to spot the tiniest of movements. She was conditioned to observe, to know everyone's ticks. It was especially imperative for interrogations.

Work. Work. Work.

Or maybe she just knew because she knew Ig.

But then she didn't know Ig.

Their relationship was complicated.

She knew him in the sense that she knew how he functioned, how he thought.

She didn't know him as a person, much less a sibling.

Max was the older one...by how much? Max struggled to remember. She had to really dig into her memories to be sure, but she'd guess he was about six months younger than she was.

Her father was the only one who really knew.

Ig came to the bunker when Max had probably just turned four, but again that was simply a guess since birthdays weren't celebrated.

She remembered when he first came in, tiny and shaking like a little white leaf. He had been scared and untrusting of Max and her father, curling up into a little ball in the corner. He hadn't liked Max from the start. She always won the games, always knew more,

Always had more confidence.

But soon enough, with more time and more manipulative coaxing from her father, Max's father became Ig's father. They were then forced to see each other as siblings, save for the blood relations.

Siblings that really didn't know each other.

She didn't know his favorite color, his favorite food, favorite city, favorite animal...the common knowledge stuff.

All the observing in the world couldn't tell her those things.

But she did know his strengths and weaknesses and ticks.

Things very important during missions.

Feelings aside, the two were able to cooperate for a task, and trusted the capabilities of what the other sibling had.

And Ig was very, _very_ good at what he did.

Making bombs.

From the start his training had been geared more towards explosives and less towards psyche. He was given books and books and forced to watch videos of building bombs at just the age of four. At first Max, who was already an advanced reader, had to help him learn the difficult words that were hardly at high-school level and more towards college-student learning. Just like Mo's language was technology, Igs' became explosives.

And Max's was the mind and body.

They were like three henchmen labeled the brains, the power, and the brawn.

All stupidly obeying a master.

But too afraid to challenge him.

 **Please review! I really love hearing from you guys!**

 **Working on the next chapter now but I can't promise it'll be up today.**

 **Thanks!**

 **Song of the chapter: Bravado by Lorde**


	13. These Missions

**Okay, this chapter is EXTREMELY short, but it's building for the next chapter.**

 **Which is definitely going to be over a thousand words.**

 **So think of it as balancing out the two chapters XD**

 **For all you adrenaline and thrill seekers, I think you'll like the next few chapters. ;D**

 **Enjoy!**

 **~Hunter**

These were the missions that struck deep into Max's empty heart and echoed regret for months on end.

These were the missions that haunted a killing machine in the dead of night during her sleep, a fatal default of a brain too intelligent that it remembers every pixel of a memory for a whole lifetime.

These were the missions that made her wonder that life, her life, how she is impacting society.

These were the missions that stirred doubt in her misty eyes while she fights to drown these aching feelings with another mission, another kill, another crime.

These were the missions she had hesitated in for maybe a millisecond as her character is tested.

These were the missions she could have done differently, and she will spend the overpriced cost of time thinking about it, reflecting what she _should_ have done instead of what she _did._

These were the missions that went so horribly wrong.

These were the missions she killed the ones who did not deserve it.

 **Song of the chapter: Hold me Down by Halsey (P.S. her music's awesome)**

 **(P.P.S. I don't know if you guys have caught on by now, but every Song of the chapter goes with the theme of the chapter, so if you're trying to feel the mood of the chapter I suggest listening to the songs! XD)**


	14. Choosing Wrong Over Right

She had been sent to Malibu, California to export a 60 million dollar painting from one of the most prestigious families in the state.

In all reality, she was told to steal some fancy french painting from a snobbish, rich family.

She had studied the family. There were four of them; husband, wife, two kids. Daddy was a neurosurgeon and mommy an agent for the big stars. The youngest child was a little red-head and treated like a china doll. She seemed to hog the attention out of the two kids.

And then there was the son. About Max's age, plain features, and nothing really extraordinary about him besides his allergies.

 _How can a human be allergic to dust?_ Max had thought scornfully as she read the long list of bizarre things Elliott- that was his name- was extremely allergic to.

He was average-level in intelligence and didn't have a lot of friends; Max deduced he was probably a wallflower that didn't quite seem to fit in the picture of a perfect and wealthy family.

Ironically, the four of them were in New York for an art auction.

Perfect time to steal famous work of art.

The plan was short and sweet: get in, grab the painting where it hung on display in the downstairs hall, and get out. It was supposed to take ten minutes.

Max had dressed herself appropriately for a criminal- black dry-fit long sleeve, black cargo pants, leather gloves, and boots. She'd take her shoes off before she entered the house; it would be much harder to trace cotton than footprints.

It was simple enough in the beginning; Mo had shut down the security codes and cameras of the mansion and all surrounding ones so she wouldn't be seen and Ig had prepared small grenades of chloroform for the security guards.

She didn't really want a bloody mess staining her clothes. It would scream "murderer" to all the rich late-nighters as soon as she walked out of the expensive neighborhood.

Max knew the layout of the millionaire mansion like the back of her own hand. She had been given the blueprints with every wall, vent, and door to watch out for. She could almost envision the place perfectly. So she felt confident as she opened the enormous front door and strutted in with just her socks on.

One thing the blueprints hadn't noted? There were paintings. Everywhere.

This family wasn't called the art-hoarders for nothing.

She let out a whistle of awe as she took in the place; it was one thing to study blueprints, but it was another to be seeing the product an excess of money causes. So many different frames with different types of art hung on every wall. Max wasn't sure there was even any space for a penny to fit.

Max wanted to poke her eyes out. It was disgusting to her.

She knew she wasn't exactly _trendy_ , or _art savvy,_ but honestly, did a history painting and a surrealism painting belong next to each other?

Max would say no.

Sighing and blinking away her distracting thoughts, the criminal made her way to the first hall and took a left, traveling to the golden kitchen and feeling satisfied when she found the prize hanging proudly at the entrance.

It was a pretty painting, Max supposed.

She didn't really know what the hell she was looking at.

It seemed like a kindergartener's messy work; a collage of blues, reds, and greens on a long rectangular white canvas. There were no shapes, just think, long brushes of color.

 _How the hell is this piece of crap worth 60?_ She had thought in absolute confusion.

Oh well. It wasn't her job to judge.

Feeling underneath the unframed painting, she found there were two hooks where the painting hung on the wall. One loop of string connected the bottom left and the bottom right parts of the painting and held onto a hook in the wall. It was a mirror image for the top of the painting.

Max sighed and got to work.

She had just begun to lift the heavy painting off the bottom hook when the sharp sound of thumping footsteps on the staircase made her freeze, eyes bugging out. She stayed still in the dark as they traveled to the bottom of the stairs and headed her way.

She couldn't run; the painting was hanging half off and if she dropped it now it would make too loud of a noise. After seeing how fit the other security guards were, Max wasn't quite sure if she'd be able to make it out the window about sixty feet down the hall before he saw her.

And she didn't have any grenades left.

Slowly she took one hand out from where she was holding the painting and slid her right hand to the waistband of her pants where her dagger was located. She quietly slipped it out of the scabbard as she strained to locate the footsteps.

They were gone.

Max held her breath as she kept her trusty knife in position. Beads of sweat began to crawl down her hairline as she felt her hand began to shake after holding the heavy canvas above her head for several agonizing minutes.

Then her blood ran cold. The kitchen light turned on. She was exposed.

She whipped her head to the side, surprised as she was covered in golden light.

And her hand fell off the painting.

Gravity immediately dragged the painting down, and the left corner landed on her left eye.

Biting her cheek enough for it to bleed, she quickly caught the painting again and struggled not to let out a few choice expletives.

At this point, she knew the person heard the sudden bang of the painting falling, so she gave herself five seconds to finish getting the painting of the top hook before her attacker would really see her.

Quickly setting the canvas on the marble ground, she hadn't even turned all the way around when the dagger flew from her hand.

She had thrown it before her mind could process what she was really seeing.

Her body had reacted to the tall black silhouette looming against the light just twenty feet away. Immediately, she regretted her action. Immediately, she felt a churn in her stomach. Immediately, she wanted to disappear.

Elliott, the son, groaned as he fell against the counter, unsteady hands cupping the dagger stuck in his body.

Elliot, who was innocently opening the refrigerator door in his flannel pajama pants and white t-shirt to grab a midnight snack.

Now he was bleeding profusely, a dagger piercing his left breast.

A perfect aim. A deadly, perfect aim.

She couldn't do anything but stare with one eye as he slumped to the ground, eyes wide and gasping loudly, looking at her in shock.

She was in shock herself.

Had she known it was him, maybe she wouldn't have aimed for a fatal attack. Maybe his thigh, his shoulder, his foot, something to cripple him but not _kill_ him.

But she hadn't known.

And now he was dying.

She could save him.

Except she wasn't wearing a mask. She couldn't do anything to risk getting caught, getting put on the records. She had to stay unknown.

Unfortunately, this time it was at the cost of Elliott's life.

A kid who was going to die so she could get away with a stupid piece of tarp.

She gulped and made her face go blank, made her eyes turn cold, made herself shake her heavy head.

It was time to let the villain in her take control.

She reached down and grabbed the painting, holding it under one arm as she made her way to the boy.

She could see him pleading silently with glassy eyes, pathetically desperate for a savior out of a killer.

She wanted to break eye contact but that wasn't what evil people did. They watched. They looked.

Max didn't want to look.

She gently put one gloved hand on his shoulder and one on the hilt of the knife.

"Sorry, Elliott," she whispered airily as she pulled the dagger out of his body. She watched as his eyes fluttered and he began to cough up blood.

He would be dead before the security guards woke up.

Just enough time for her to escape.

She continued walking away from him, pretending she couldn't hear his last breaths.

She refused to look back.

She knew if she looked back, she would bend.

Mad didn't bend. Max didn't shift.

Max was solid. "You must be invincible. You have no heart, no feelings," her father had told her once during training.

But she had a hard time convincing herself that she was anything but an emotional pond of mud as she made her way out of the neighborhood with lead feet.

 **I don't kill characters just to add zest into the story. This has a point.**

 **Review.**

 **Song of the chapter: Control by Halsey**


	15. Breathe

**Hi! Thank you to those who reviewed! Made me smile :D**

 **Enjoy!**

It would be natural to speculate how Max could have simply waltzed away from one of the most secure and richest neighborhoods of California with a renowned painting under her arm.

Or you may still be thinking about the ruthless killing of Elliott-

Max was.

This wasn't normal. He was just a human. Probably would've been a simple trust fund baby with not a single worry in the world. Just a snob with an adequate functional brain. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing special.

She tried to comfort herself with these thoughts. She didn't know why she even _needed_ to make herself feel less upset about the murder; she shouldn't even be _feeling_ anything.

 _Focus, Max,_ she reminded herself.

She pushed the dead boy's panicked brown eyes out of the forefront of her mind and slinked out of the light of the street lamps and into the darkness by the wall guarding the once impenetrable area.

Behind a particularly large and beautiful oak tree was a long cardboard box.

Inside there were clothes, a fake ID, and plenty of room to fit the painting.

The streets were quiet as she rustled the fallen leaves while changing into the orange U-Haul uniform. She watched her breath billow in the dim light, letting the last lungfuls of guilt leave her body. She pretended it was that easy to let emotions go. It helped, breathing in and out and letting the rhythmic breathing calm the storm stirring inside.

But it never made the storm go away, just diminish to a drizzle.

It was good enough three years ago and it would have to be good enough now.

Drawing her eyes away from the clouds of silver puffing from her mouth, she studied the ID that Mo had made for her.

 _Miranda Sills_ , it read in black block letters.

As she packed everything up she reviewed her pretend-character in her head, gently sliding the heavy painting into the box. Miranda Ray Sills, an 18 year-old high-school dropout, kicked out of the house by her parents. A low-energy demeanor with a cold attitude; a boring, slow woman with no motivation. She took out the dark plum lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara that had been placed in her pants' pockets and did her best to make it look like she wasn't painted on by a toddler.

She had no mirror, hardly any light. Fingers numb from the chilly December night.

She hoped could pull off "two year-old's canvas" well enough.

Shoving the makeup back into her back pockets, she cracked her neck and stretched her arms before lifting the box and going on her less-than-merry way. She knew where she was going, since she had memorized the map back to the warehouse.

Her arms buckled slightly from the returning weight, but the walk wasn't too far, and Max was strong.

She'd be fine.

She'd get to the warehouse in half an hour.

Late.

The angry sirens and red lights heading her direction made her feet trudge quicker. She turned and watched as the firetruck and ambulance turned into the prestigious neighborhood.

She sighed and kept going. Police would immediately begin searching the surrounding area.

 _Can't get caught._

 **Review review!**

 **Song of the Chapter: Lately I've been obsessed with Heathens by twenty-one pilots and it goes pretty well with this chapter. Listen to it!**

 **Has anyone seen Suicide Squad? Was it good/bad/meh?**


	16. Humpty Dumpty

**Hello hello! So sorry for the long wait; I broke my thumb so writing wasn't exactly easy XD**

 **But it feels a lot better now so I can update! Yayyyy**

 **Thank you all to my reviewers (especially for making making me laugh XD)!**

 **Enjoy!**

Max slowed down as she approached the large plain metal warehouse and kept her eyes locked on the lot where the trucks were.

At 4:30 A.M., there weren't many workers but there seemed to be a surplus of vehicles. Standing from across the empty street, Max could tell the security guard behind the gate was dead asleep, sitting slumped and leaning against the wall. Even if he did wake up and see her, he was too overweight to do much more than yell.

The warehouse was guarded by a mechanical gate, which seemed to open according to a code, Max noted as she glared unappreciatively at the code box standing a couple feet from the entrance.

That wasn't in the blueprints. Not at all.

She pursed her lips in disapproval as she spotted another surprise: security cameras. They hadn't been expecting any form of camera or technological security in this boring place. Who would really want to steal a UHaul truck?

...Max would.

She hated it when thoughtless people damper her plans with unnecessary obstacles. There must have been more than ten cameras just on the side she could see; no doubt there were more around back. On top of the sheer multitude of technology capturing her every movement, they swiveled. Up, down, and sideways. Slowly checking every direction, it seemed as if she would surely be seen sneaking in.

But if Max knows anything, there is always a way in.

Max made sure to check the layout of the land before devising a plan. Besides the cameras and code box, everything seemed to follow the notes on the building layout that had been printed just a year before. So Mo had absolutely no idea of these new additions, and since Father was highly paranoid of technological communication between any of them, there was no way to contact her tech gal. Max was on her own this time.

Observing the cameras again, she found a thirty second lapse where the cameras missed her decided place of entrance: the far left, where a large oak leaned against the fence and the street lights didn't expose a slim body darting over.

Perfect.

She took into account the heaviness of the box she was hauling and how carefully quiet she had to be.

She'd have to be fast-

expert rock-climber speed.

Max hadn't done a whole lot of rock climbing in her seventeen years on the Earth. She'd scaled plenty of buildings, sure, and this little seven feet tall fence would be nothing, but she was positive rock-climbing was much harder. Especially with no harness.

Cracking her neck and taking three deep breaths, Max mentally prepared herself for the challenge. She bounced on her toes and shook her arms out before snatching up the box and darting across the street, avoiding the attention of the first few cameras still calmly flowing. She hid behind the oak for some brief moments and waited until she saw the opening in the security camera's movements.

Slinking her way up as silently as possible, she dug her narrow feet into the small spaces of the chain link fence and hugged the big brown box close to her with one hand as the other latched onto the metal. She propelled herself up the tilting wall and straddled the top. Then she reached down and set the box down onto the cement on the other side, not even daring to glance at the cameras.

 _Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall._

She swung her other leg over the fence and began her descent.

Of course, then her foot got caught.

 _Humpty Dumpty had a great fall._

Down and down and down she went. She let out a large gasp as her limbs tangled and she crashed onto the cold, hard ground with a thump. Her body lay slumped on the ground as her left ankle remained caught above in the tiny hole between the metal links. Pain shot through her foot as she yanked it roughly out, gingerly setting it down on the concrete.

If she had been trying to draw attention, Max couldn't have thought of a better way. She had banged into the shaky fence, said a few expletives not so quietly, and skidded her other foot on the ground throughout the struggle.

 _All the King's horses and all the King's men_

She picked herself up as she saw the security guard jerk awake at the loud noises. He was a good fifty yards away, and Max was in the dark, but she didn't take any risks. She limped as fast as possible to hunker between two UHaul trucks just a few yards away. She glanced to her right; the guard wasn't making a very determined attempt to discover the source of the crash. He folded his arms over his chest and tottered over as if he was on a stroll.

Ducking down, Max set herself lightly on the ground. She muffled her pained squeaks with her sleeve and untied her boot. Slightly pulling the sock down, she discovered a horribly swollen ankle and the beginning of purple and blue fireworks staining her tender skin.

 _Couldn't put Humpty together again._

Bad break, she decided. Nothing that would kill her, of course, so she'd just have to deal with it for now.

Besides, she was already far behind schedule.

 **Review review! Planning on getting the second half to this chapter up tomorrow but I need a little motivation ;D**

 **Lemme know what you like, what you don't, etc etc**

 **Song of the Chapter: Way Down We Go by Kaleo**


	17. She Hauls UHauls

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 **Guys honestly I don't care if it's just a thumbs up...I wanna hear from you all!**

 _Pain is just a message,_ Max reminded herself begrudgingly as she tied her boot back up. _An annoying, useless freaking message that I am unsuscribing to,_ she continued, _Yeah_ , _sorry Pain, your issues are irrelevant to me._

Slowly getting up, she checked to make sure the security guard was gone. He had given up on searching and was obviously asleep again; Max could here his snores from where she hid behind the UHaul truck.

Walking as normally as possible with a broken foot, Max got inside the warehouse. She tried to fly under the radar, despite the humongous cardboard box she was lugging around. Keeping her head down to avoid eye contact with the few other employees sluggishly sulking around, she scuffled to the key box and took out "Key #4" the van Mo had researched. It would not have to be used for another three days.

Max would already be out of California by then.

Closing the key box, she studied the design of the key as she left the warehouse and back out to the vans. Her designated car was located much farther down than where she had be hidden; Van #4 was parked all the way where the back wall and the side wall intersected.

She let herself limp, pain screwing up her face.

Then she saw the two young men leaning against one of the vans.

 _Her_ van.

They were drinking and smoking, one puffing like a dragon with a bad cough and the other blowing smoke out like steam rises from a hot meal. Really not in the mood for chatter and drunk rambling, she clicked the unlock button on the keys and watched somewhat amused as the two adults fell off the hood; the yellow lights on the car had flashed as a loud beep rung out.

One of the men stumbled up. The other giggled and stayed on the ground. Spotting her, the one who stood cat called, his shaggy hair getting caught in his mouth. They were skinny, but tall; she was 5'10 and was tiny compared to them. But Max was dangerous was contemplating knocking them out before any sort of confrontation had to happen.

Deciding against it, she glared at the one standing up. "Move," she ordered monotonically. The one on the ground began to giggle again, pointing at her and slurring, "Now whatcha think ya doing' out 'ere?" Then he burped, making the other guy to laugh, spewing his beer that he'd been drinking.

"I'm going on a job. You are in my way. Move," she said more forcefully. Frankly, she didn't have much patience for bumbling idiots; unfortunately, she met more idiots than actual thinking humans.

They didn't respond to her demand. Rolling her eyes, she made a move to get past them, but as she was walking by Shaggy, he pulled her hair. "Wha' kinda stuff you takin'?" He asked, and Max couldn't help but notice the beer stain dribbled down his UHaul uniform. He was staring unabashedly as the big cardboard box with curiosity. Hopefully curiosity wouldn't shift to suspicion.

"Special delivery. And if you don't let me go right now I'll make sure the security guard can specially deliver you far away to a little jail cell for assault and harassment," she snarled, unblinking and mean. Shaggy put up his hands in mock surrender, stumbling back and tripping over Giggles, who had fallen asleep during the exchange.

"Fine," he said, "Haul away, you little bi-"

"She hauls Uhauls!" Giggles interrupted, looking stupidly proud of his joke. He laughed, chanting "She hauls Uhauls" until Shaggy joined him, laughing and drinking and looking like a bad Disney musical number.

Fuming, Max loaded the box into the back of the storage container and locked the hatch. Pushing away her insane desire to kick out their lights, she hopped into the front seat and pulled out.

The two drunks were still laughing as she left the lot.

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 **Song of the Chapter: 99 Problems by Hugo**


	18. Tailed

**Long story for the hiatus. I'm sure you all wouldn't care to read it. Sorry for the wait. I'll be trying to update more now.**

 **Thank you**

The dark blue sky of night was beginning to quickly fade into a bruise-colored purple as Max steered the Haul onto the freeway, heading East to Arizona. She began to twirl her greasy hair with one hand, letting herself relax a little and zone out. She didn't really have any fears or concerns about lugging a humongous, non-subtle white and orange van around the state; she had complete trust that Mo would have access to the street cameras' videos and would be looping the footage so she wouldn't be seen.

She glanced to the rising sun, feeling her thoughts drift years back to when she and Iggy had played the ultimate Guessing Game in the dark bunker. The motive of the game was to guess when the sun had completely come up, but she and Iggy were so impatient that they couldn't resist but peek out of the bunker like groundhogs every couple of minutes. She smiled as she recalled how upset she would be that Iggy won so much, laughing triumphantly at her as his thick, pale hair glistened gold in the early light. She would punch his arm then giggle with him before dipping back into the room below. It was perhaps the few fond memories she had with Iggy. Then everything turned from friendly competition to a challenge of worth.

It was sibling rivalry to an extreme.

Screeching tires snapped her out of her memories and she slammed on the brakes. Some cocky idiot in a red Corvette had zoomed past her just seconds before, and she wasn't surprised to see it now shouldering the median, two other cars smashed and flipped near it. All traffic on the freeway quickly slowed as sharp debris blocked the lanes from passing. Cars began to pull over to help push the materials to the side and help the passengers in the affected cars. Max stayed still in her seat, suddenly tense and gripping the leather steering wheel so hard her knuckles stretched and turned white.

She couldn't be held up by this. She already needed to make up time.

And she really didn't want to see any ambulances or cop cars at that moment.

Curse her mind for immediately reminding her of the boy she murdered just hours before. She had steeled herself against any emotions regarding him, but yet her brain couldn't resist screwing with her. She groaned out load, banging her head back against the seat. _No, Max,_ she told herself, _no more pity and pathetic shit. Get a grip._

Had it really been just hours since her dagger had plunged his unsuspecting body?

Was that really considered murder? Or was it defense?

Since it was for the sake of her own safety, Max could rationalize that it wasn't her fault. It was that boy's fault for coming downstairs in the middle of the night. _Yes,_ she assured, _he was practically asking for it._ If he had waited ten minutes, his body wouldn't have been found on the red-stained marble tile that he probably didn't even appreciate all that much. His family wouldn't be getting the stomach-sinking phone call from the local coroner. He probably would've lived a fat, content life as a trust fund baby.

Max wouldn't be on the lamb as a murderer.

If only he had waited ten minutes before grabbing a damn midnight snack.

She sighed, snaking a hand through her blonde hair again and letting her mind focus back to the present. Her foot was throbbing horribly now, the pain only dulled by the lulling adrenaline that had fueled her an hour before.

Now she could feel how bad it hurt.

Now she really wanted to chop it off.

Reaching into the console, Max searched for some sort of pain reliever. The morning sun had begun to really blind her with sharp yellow rays piercing through the windows and harshly reflecting of mirrors and shiny metals from other cars. Unfortunately her search for Motrin or sunglasses came up fruitless, so Max resorted to intense squinting and trying (unsuccessfully) to forget about her broken ankle.

 _Pain is just a message,_ she repeated to herself.

 _...Pain is a damn loud message...but ignore it. Sorry, Pain, but I'm not available right now. Please go the hell away and never come back. With spiteful love, Max._ The internal message seemed to help, and she found herself talking to herself just to keep her mind from the pain receptors alerting her brain.

But it was hard with no Motrin.

No Motrin for Max.

And she couldn't pull over to a gas station. She was already behind schedule and really just wanting to get into the next state before letting herself take a break from the driving.

Screaming to herself in frustration, she let a slew of angry curses leave her mouth, punching the radio button for some music. "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" was playing, and a content Max flopped back against the seat, slightly humming to the music.

No more than a minute later her singing was cut short, her body tense, and the music seemed to vanish.

Her brown eyes had flashed to the rearview mirror, had seen the three black SUVs lined across the lanes of the open freeway, and had quickly assessed that it was not a coincidence. The tinted windows, the matching speed, and the unnerving identical pattern of them all was too much to be coincidental.

 _So cliché,_ she noted, _they always go with black cars._

Stepping on the gas lightly, she watched her speed increase from 65 to 70. Glancing back, she observed the SUVs increasing their speed as well.

Then two motorcycles flanked the SUVs and Max didn't have a single shred of doubt left inside of her.

She smiled ruefully.

She was being tailed.

 **Who's ready for a car chase scene?! Next chapter, next chapter. Stick around!**

 **For my reviewer out there, FANG WILL COME. I promise! XD You just gotta wait a little bit.**

 **Again, I'm really sorry for the long break.**

 **Song of the Chapter: Jungle by X Ambassadors**

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	19. Fun

**Hello again! This chapter is a two, maybe three part of the whole car chase seen.**

 **I dunno. We'll see. XD**

 **Enjoyyyyy!**

Turning up the volume for the music, an ironically perfect rock song, Max laughed humorlessly and picked up the speed on the UHaul. She zig-zagged around the countless other cars, most likely looking like a lunatic as she veered across all lanes, the van teetering as the tires struggled to grip this quickly passing asphalt. The SUVs were having trouble catching up to her, getting stuck behind slower cars and unable to maneuver easily as Max's van continually shifted.

 _Serpentine, Serpentine,_ she thought excitedly as she snaked around the traffic. _Can't get a moving target all that well._

But the two motorcycles were nearly on her, one flanking her right side so she couldn't get off the freeway and the other right behind her.

Turning to look at the biker to her right, she saw his head turn her way, eyes hidden behind the darkly tinted visor and mouth covered by the same thick plastic that covered the rest of the helmet. Max could easily tell the biker was a man by his broad stature, wide, flat chest, and the Adam's apple protruding from his throat. That's all she could identify; she couldn't tell any other detail about the man other than his gender.

The biker precariously raised his left hand, gripping the handle harder with his right hand. He pointed to her left with a white gloved hand, to where the median was.

 _He wants me to pull over,_ Max realized. Scoffing, she thought, _Forget that. Forget you, sir,_ and turned back to him with a tight-lipped glare, flipping him off before punching the gas to 90 mph. The biker kept up with her pace, continually glancing at her, and she immediately regretted not wearing a hat or sunglasses so he wouldn't be able to document her appearance. He probably had a pretty decent report coming along; dirty blonde hair, mid-shoulder length, tan skin, high cheekbones, and small lips. He wouldn't be able to see much of her eye-color, but could easily assume they were dark.

And, of course, a nasty temper.

 _Whoops._

Then he raised a gun, directing its black barrel at her window calmly.

 _Aw, shi-_

Acting on instinct, she braked hard and heard the gun go off, thanking her lucky stars the bullet didn't so much as graze her car. Yet a loud thud from the back of the van surprised her, and she inhaled sharply when she realized what it was.

 _The other biker._ He must've hit her van head-on. No doubt he would be seriously injured, perhaps even dead. Max shrugged carelessly. _One down,_ she counted, _four tailers to go._

The other motorcyclist had slowed his speed to match hers yet again, and Max groaned at her foolishness. She hadn't even thought to bring extra protection, obliviously assuming she would have an easy and painless trip.

Neither of those had worked out for her.

She didn't have a gun, just her dagger, which was pointless to use anyways and was most definitely going to be traced back to the murder weapon for the boy in the mansion. It would be a death sentence to throw out her only weapon, her murder weapon.

And which, speaking of weapons, Max noticed the man raising his gun again. Mercilessly plowing into his lane in an attempt to hit him, she furrowed her brows in silent anger, getting real annoyed with the jerk. He quickly veered away from her, but dropped his gun to place both hands on the handles.

She smiled and let him catch up to her again. Looking over at the now-weaponless assailant, she stuck her tongue out, mocking him. She saw him shake his helmet-clad head and hold the handles with an even firmer grip.

 _Aww, poor you,_ she thought unsympathetically.

Ahead, she saw a turn off from the highway to a series of campgrounds. A perfect chance to escape from this uncomfortable hold the tailers had her in. Smiling, she began to head off the freeway, and the cyclist to her right (who no longer had a threatening weapon) had no choice but to simply escort her.

"Hahaha!" She laughed triumphantly, sensing freedom close to her outreaching hands. She was going to get away. She was going to find out who these jokers were, what they wanted with her, and then kill them.

Kill every single one of them.

Screw being late. She had other pressing matters on hand.

She turned and smirked at the little jerk next to her, but her glee was choked into shock as an eardrum-exploding _**bang**_ reverberated into her van. Instinctively she ducked her head as her eyes shot up to the rearview mirror.

The SUVs had caught up to her, and the one right behind her held a suit-clad man in the passenger seat, leaning out of the window to point a fun at her van.

 _Fine,_ she huffed, Y _ou want to play dirty? Let's have some fun._

Max always liked having fun.

Fun always meant she'd win.

 **And Part One of the Epic chase scene has ended. Trust me, more stuff happens in the next chapter. I won't spoil it, but writing it was pretty exciting. I hope you guys can visualize it! XD**

 **Let me know how I did! Reviews always make me feel encouraged to get more chapters out there.**

 **Thank you for all the views! Almost 3 thousand so far! I'm very thankful for all of you. :D**

 **Hope to get the next chapter up soon!**

 **Song of the Chapter: Trouble in Mind by Larkin Poe**


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